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One mountainside divides us from a cloud forest preserve in Monteverde, Costa Rica. The ninety degree weather has finally abated, and we’re sitting in the cool shade of our hostel. A rural city center provides an oasis of Internet and food. It’s here that I look at my budget, login into Mint, and choke at the refreshed results. Traveling hasn’t been friendly to my bank accounts.

A few months ago, my partner and I decided we would take a summer trip to Costa Rica. I’m fortunate to have flight benefits, which made it $40 roundtrip (pays for airport, state, and federal taxes). With this shocking price tag and a propensity for travel, I couldn’t contain my excitement.

As we landed in Costa Rica, a couple thoughts coursed through my mind: one, I only have $150 in cash; two, we have no plans – enter panic here. We were funneled out of customs and immigration with ease – straight to a rental car that was supposed to cost $55 for five days. Instead, switching between Spanish and English, the attendant assured us that price was incorrect. The bill was nearly $200. This was to be the first of many monetary mix ups.

At the currency exchange, I converted my cash to colones. The exchange rate sat around 500 colones for a dollar, but I was given 430 at the counter (service fee). Upon leaving the hotel and venturing out into the Costa Rican landscape, I quickly learned that most people accepted US dollars as tender. The conversion and fee made no sense, as the places that didn’t accept dollars would usually take a credit card.

There’s only a day and a half of adventure left in Centroamerica. Tomorrow will bring hours of hiking, driving, eating, and fun with my partner. But it also means keeping a watchful eye to what I spend.

Frugaling is limited when you’re stateside. You can research currency rates and read travel guides, but the costs always seem to fluctuate. What you see isn’t always what you get.

If you’re like me (balling on a budget and eager to travel), it’s important to know that travel expenses deserve wiggle room. Humans are prone to budgetary error and spending. This is only compounded when traveling abroad. Talk to as many people as you can, but don’t forget to ask how much it cost them. Budgets vary and affordable adventures are relative.

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I recently had a long conversation about being frugal with my partner when I was in Los Angeles. The dialogue spanned the gamut of ideas and things we could each do to cut down on waste and save some money in the process. Packing lunches, spending less on entertainment, and enjoying the company of others (a free activity) dominated the list. Then, the conversation turned to ways that I frugally make money.

She had long noticed I kept different piles in the recycling, and assumed that I sorted it. In a way, she was right – I did sort it. I told her the purpose was to take advantage of Iowa’s bottle deposit/refund of five cents for each one.

Her grin turned to a smirk and then to a chuckle and then into uncontrollable laughter. “You’re really saving the cans for the bottle deposit?” She said. In that moment I wondered who was the crazy one. How could she pass up five cents? Why wouldn’t I try and get that refund? I get money back and recycle in the process! I began to explain how I had grabbed cans from classmates and out of trash cans to get the bottle deposit when I was at school, too.

This was when I realized: I’m insane. Here I am spending precious time in my life – collecting cans. I get paid about $20-25 an hour at work, and I’m grabbing cans from people and places for five cents. It would take 400 cans to equate to my one hour of work. The math wasn’t adding up.

Sometimes it takes a mirror to realize how comical you look. 400 cans would easily take hours of time to collect, and then I’d be stuck transporting them to a designated refund location. Again, the math didn’t add up in time or money. Here I was trying to be frugal, but between the loss of time and the harm on the environment of driving to a collection facility, it was undermining my ambitions.

There are better ways to make five cents. Frugaling means more than scavenging for cans, doesn’t it?

But some habits die hard… As I flew back from Los Angeles to podunk Iowa, the stewardess handed me a full can of orange juice. As I poured the cold beverage into my single-serve cup, I wondered whether I should save the can. It’s worth five cents. Every little bit counts, right?

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Everything is different when you’re in debt. The concept of affordable goes out the window. Paradoxically, you can afford anything and nothing. There is no budget that does justice to this imbalance.

This fall, I’ll be making around $1300 per month, which is comparable to a single receipt from The Rich Kids of Instagram. I need to find a way to pay rent, utilities, gas, student fees and a portion of tuition, food, car insurance, and health insurance – all with about $1300 (after taxes).

I’ve poured hours into a budget that might get me there (if I sell my car). Each month, I may be able to net $100. Quite simply, that’s $100 per month that I need to be paying off student loans or saving.

This is where it gets tricky. With 6.8% interest piling on my student loan debt and a severely strained budget, I’m caught – close to being able to manage it, but still losing ground. This is the cycle of poverty and debt. This is why people can’t get out. When you’re finally making more, the debt you accrued is calling.

It’s fiscally irresponsible to do anything that costs extra money.

Truth be told, it was a huge splurge to buy a plane ticket this weekend to visit my long-distance partner. The price will come back to haunt me in loan interest. But despite this recent spending, I’ve been conserving nearly every dollar I have. This next academic year I want to stop the onslaught of debt – any way I can.

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Photo: flickr/codyryanreigle

Today, I logged into my Mint.com account. The number updates after a few seconds, as all my accounts come online. The transactions keep coming and the debt keeps accruing. There’s a big, bold number staring at me: $37,718.68 in debt.

Nowadays, when I look at the cup of Vanilla Chobani Greek Yogurt or tall coffee at Starbucks, I know it will end up costing me 6.8% more. Everything in my life will cost at least 6.8% more. Nothing is face value. Hello, student loan debt.

I am one of the privileged, fortunate souls where my undergraduate education was paid for by family. My parents and grandparents saved and saved – they compromised and cut-out from their own budgets to help me go to college. We never went on lavish vacations or purchased expensive things. We were a humble, middle-class family.

But now I’m in graduate school. Nobody expected I’d actually make it this far in my schooling – not even me. This is my second year in a doctoral program. The debt and interest is accruing, adding up, and spiraling out of control. People tell me it’s okay – that this is an investment – “you’re getting a Ph.D.!” In two years, I’ve amassed nearly $40,000 in debt.

I’m writing this to say it isn’t okay. Just because I’m spending the time to better myself doesn’t mean I should leave with six figures in loans. My partner recently asked how much I owe, what I might have by the time I graduate, and what my plan is to repay it.

I didn’t have an answer.

It prompted some sad questions: Would the amount of debt I have prevent somebody or scare them away from a serious relationship or marriage? Could debt be so burdensome, if shared, that people just avoid it at all costs?

The original question and the ensuing self-doubt prompted this post. This will be the first of many – a diary of sorts as I change this descending trajectory towards the pits of student loan hell.